Jason led the way inside the diner. It was busy inside, but he managed to find a booth for them to sit in. A diner like this was the kind of place you could expect to find just about anyone. Everything from arguing couples to people exchanging substances that can get you arrested. It wasn’t quite a wretched hive of scum and villainy, but it wasn’t too far away from that idea either.
While he was idly looking the menu up and down for something that sounded tasty and cheap, he noticed that Heller was glancing around the interior of the diner, smiling and nodding.
Looks like the place hadn't changed all that much then, old man, eh?
Chapter 11
A waitress skittered over with a notepad. She looked about 50, but Jason guessed she was closer to 40; the extra miles on her clock were probably a combination of bad living, and a crappy job. Years of running around late at night on minimum wage will puts years on anyone, and Darlene here, or at least that's what her Chucky's Diner name tag said, was after doing her fair share of late nights and Jason thought she looked like she needed a complete overhaul.
Actually, he guessed she was more like 42, and he was pretty sure if he asked her, he'd be right. Jason had always been able to pull numbers out of the air, but then again, other days, he'd forget where he parked his cab. Go figure. He'd always put the number guessing down to pure luck, the only luck he'd ever really had. It still freaked people out from time to time though.
"What can I get you guys?" she asked.
Jason waited for Heller to order, but he got the courtesy nod from the old man that he should order first. This was the easy bit, Jason thought.
"Steak, eggs, white toast, and coffee please."
Just repeating to Darlene what he intended to eat had increased the rumble coming from his stomach to a dull roar now instead.
Heller didn't wait for an invitation. "I see you have apple pie and pecan pie. Bring me a big slice of each, four scoops of vanilla ice cream, and a pot of strong coffee please, young lady.”
A few unintelligible scribbles on her pad later and Darlene was gone on her way. Jason realized that he was still holding the menu in front of himself, reading it. He also realized that Heller was looking straight at him, smiling. He could feel his stare burning through the worn menu and straight into his mind.
"My doctors would kill me for eating this, but then, it won't kill me any more quickly than anything else at this stage. There’s nothing unhealthier than cancer, and I intend on having one last meal of my own choosing. You still have questions about what I've told you, don't you? I can see it in your eyes," Heller said with a grin that was part fox and part Cheshire cat.
Jason found himself nodding without thinking. He realized he did have more questions, even though he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answers he got. "You said earlier about 'designated targets' with Kennedy, right? What exactly does that mean?" The rabbit hole was about to get a whole lot deeper.
"None of us knew the other gunmen, Jason, but we all had our own specific targets to aim for. Each of these targets delivering an almost-definite kill shot. From the top down, we were aiming for the head, throat, heart, lungs, and spine. We were trying to put rounds where they were going to do massive direct and collateral damage. Even if our bullets passed clean through him, the damage they did would be beyond medical science both then and now. Like I said, the ZR Rifle guys made sure that it was game over for Kennedy. The only way he was going to leave Dealey Plaza was dead.”
The "Magic Bullet" theory had stuck out like a sore thumb during any investigation into the Kennedy assassination. Apparently, bullets that could defy the laws of physics were all over Dallas, Texas that November day. Or there had been other shooters trying to kill Kennedy. Jason had always suspected that what happened in that day was nothing less than a military-style ambush, something that his own training backed up, but he'd never had any real proof of that until now. The only thing "magic" about those bullets is how many of them were fired.
Something else was bothering Jason. "But what about Kennedy's protection from the Secret Service guys and even the local police? How did you know they wouldn't interfere?"
"If you carefully examine the events leading up to the assassination, there were all the signs that the shit was going to hit the fan. Kennedy's Secret Service escort went AWOL just before the execution. Why? They were removed because they’d wind up getting in the way of most of the bullets being aimed at Kennedy. There was too much risk of them helping him escape "The Main Event" and then for Kennedy to start asking some very awkward questions. Even if he just told Bobby Kennedy what had happened, we were looking at martial law and every one of the conspirators eating a bullet, including me.”
“Getting the Secret Service guys out of the picture was easy - they were simply told to hang back, and that's what they did. Those guys are trained to obey orders, so we used that against them," Heller explained intently.
"Other hints were things like the bulletproof canopy his Cadillac used all the time being removed that morning. The spin we put on that afterward was that Kennedy wanted people to see him up close and personal. Well, I can call bullshit on that one, Jason - we just made sure he didn't have an inch of bulletproof glass protecting his damned fool hide. Heck, we even managed to get his route changed to bring Kennedy into a triangulated ambush. The Secret Service was the very least of our problems; we knew we had the most important of them in our pocket, and the ones who weren't were kept well away from the action.”
"Don't you care there are other people in here who could overhear you? Report you to the police?" Jason asked.
Heller started his belly laugh again. "No, I don't care, and why would I? There are so many conspiracy nuts these days that it's hard to find a truly sane person to have a conversation with. The lunatic asylums are full of perfectly sane men mixed in with all the lunatics. For all we know, Jesus Christ did return to the Earth, but is currently medicated in some local nuthouse. Claims of insider knowledge, or being able to perform miracles, won't get you very far these days. The flip side of this is that the government is full of lunatics. I should know because I was one of them. Maybe I still am."
“Let them listen to me all they want," Heller said. "The reality is, most people are too busy just trying to get by to care much about anything else. Starving, worried, financially destroyed people are easy to control. That's all part of it, Jason. That’s all part of the bigger game plan.”
"Part of what? You keep hinting at knowing more than you're saying, so maybe spit it out, Heller, instead of playing games with me.”
Jason had never enjoyed people playing mind games, and this old man was obviously a master of the art. That didn't make him any less infuriating though, and that anger had finally bubbled to the surface. He could feel it throbbing in his veins, and felt his fists clench involuntarily.
For a split second, the grandfatherly smile on Heller's face vanished and was replaced by a look filled with the kind of cold-blooded anger that instantly convinced Jason he was having coffee with a killer. The mask had dropped just long enough for him to see exactly what was hiding underneath the disguise the old man was wearing.